We sat on the back porch drinking wine at dusk and waited for the bloom,
green hearts, these leaves, these long thin buds, waiting for the bloom.
Watch you said. It opens like a hand, like a dinner plate, like a pie
an ache grown fierce with lonely, waiting for the bloom.
Silver moths spun in the streetlight, whirring nightbirds in the hedge
planets dropped hints on the horizon, blue waiting for the bloom.
Like this you kept me still forever, dreaming flowers in the night,
eyes on the vine, the accordion bud, waiting for the bloom.